


Perambulations around the Center

by mari4212



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Character of Color, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mari4212/pseuds/mari4212
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conversations in the wake of Namorn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perambulations around the Center

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harborshore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harborshore/gifts).



_20th day of Barley Moon, 1043, Daja’s Forge, Emelan_  
A newcomer to Emelan would be startled by the sight of the young woman in a fine silk sitting in a blacksmith’s shop, spinning common wool yarn and chattering at the equally-young blacksmith. Her brilliantly blue dress stood out against the rough wooden table she perched on, and her gay conversation stood at equal odds against the blacksmith’s rare interjections. 

Neither one of the women in the workshop would have taken any notice of the newcomer’s surprise. Their friendship, forged when they were still children frightened of their developing talents, was by now so long-standing that they’d forgotten how odd it would seem to an outsider. The noble lady with a commoner’s spindle and the Trader-turned blacksmith considered themselves the more normal members of their foursome, anyway. What were a stitch-witch and a metal-mage to a thief turned plant mage and the bookworm who could shape the weather? 

Daja finally ceased her hammering, the metal cooled too much to continue shaping, and returned it to the forge. She pumped the bellows three times, then turned her full attention to Sandry, cutting her off mid-ramble. “Not that it’s not good to see you, but why are you suddenly free in the middle of the afternoon? I thought your uncle was putting you to more work in court sessions since we’ve been back.”

Sandry didn’t stop the movement of her spindle as she answered, “He’s been having private sessions with his lawyers this past week, and he kicked me out all day today. I think he’s working on his will again, and he doesn’t want me hovering over him about it.” She stopped and wound her yarn around the shaft of the spindle, before dropping it again, letting the draft spill through her thumb and first two fingers as the yarn spun itself. “It doesn’t help that my cousin and his wife are coming for another visit, Uncle always hates it when they come. They’re like vultures, circling and waiting for him to give up power.”

She grimaced, and Daja nodded in sympathy. She’d only met Sandry’s paternal cousin once, and that had been far more than enough in her opinion. He and his wife were the worst kind of kaqs, self-obsessed, focused on possessions and power, and lacking all care for those under their responsibility.

Sandry sighed, wrinkling her nose. “Depending on how bad they get, I might be coming and hiding here in your forge more often than not. I hate to abandon Uncle to them, but he's already informed me that it would not be appreciated if I spun their cloths together and dumped them in the harbor until they learned manners.” She glared down at the spindle. “I hate to think of them taking over Emelan. I might permanently move into your house, if there's room for me?”

Daja raised her eyebrows and play-attempted one of Rosethorn's glares. “There will always be a place for you, saati. That you think to ask is almost insulting.” Inwardly, she couldn't help but think that Sandry's fears were not very justified. It seemed like Sandry was the only one who knew both her and the Duke who didn't think that the Duke was well on his way to disinheriting his children in favor of his grand-niece. 

Trying to distract Sandry, Daja nodded at the spindle. “I saw the flashes of magic, but I couldn’t tell exactly what you were doing there.”

Sandry took the lifeline as intended and grinned. “Remember how I told you about making my embroidery silks glow, and when I made our thread light up in the earthquake?” It was a rhetorical question, Daja knew. Neither one of them would forget that day, or how each of them had discovered their talents. “Well, I wanted to do something like that, but with heat instead. I’ve been pulling heat out of the air in the shop and spinning it into my yarn. If the magic holds constant the way it seems to be holding, I’ll have enough to knit Uncle a heated blanket for this winter. He’s been complaining more about his knee recently.” Sandry shrugged, “And it seems to be helping with staying a bit cooler when you’re working. I don’t know how you can stand the heat.”

Daja shrugged back. “You get used to it.” The iron would be almost to the correct heat by now. A thought occurred to her, “You should talk with a healer, if your blanket works the way you think it will. There’s a lot of patients who need help staying warm.”

Sandry nodded, her braids bouncing. “I’d already talked with Lark about it. She’s going to try spinning in heat herself, and if we can both do it, we’ll be talking to some of the dedicates at Water.” She began spinning again, then wound off her yarn on the rod. _Daja?_ She asked, speaking mind to mind. _We were so busy escaping Namorn earlier, and I was too angry. Are you alright? I know you liked Rizuka_.

Daja turned to pull her iron out of the furnace, and began beating the curve into the rod. This was going to be another one of her living metal sculptures, and this rod would form one of the central lily stalks. She’d had Briar trace out a proper clumping earlier. It gave her something other than her feelings to focus on. Sandry had been right to speak along their bond, Daja didn’t think she could say what she felt out loud yet. _I miss her, but sometimes I think I miss more who I could be with her._ She paused for a moment, assessing the arc of metal. Another fingerspan further to curve, she thought. Blowing out a breath, she continued hammering. _She made me feel beautiful,_ she said. _If someone that lovely wanted me, I had to be beautiful. But we didn’t know each other long enough to love each other. And both of us wanted the other to be different. She wanted me to be happy in the same cage she was in, and I wanted her to want to leave that cage. If we’d really loved each other, we wouldn’t have wanted the other to be that different. You can’t love someone if you want to change their nature._ The metal had cooled again, and Daja blew out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. 

Putting the rod back into the furnace, she moved to stand by the table Sandry perched at, letting the somewhat cooler air stop her tears. It still hurt to think of what could have been. Sandry moved at the same time, dropping her spindle on the table and wrapping an arm around Daja’s waist. _It will come, saati_ , she said, resting her head against Daja’s shoulder. _Someone will come and want you as you are. Now you just know the right gender to look for._

Daja laughed. “And I suppose you're going to want to help me with that?” Sandry helping was both a guarantee that something good would happen on those lines, and rather terrifying. She was...intense about helping those she loved. 

“And force you to deal with matchmaking mamas the way I do? Never. But if you find someone, I'll make sure you have some time alone with her before the rest of the world spots you together.” Sandry laughed as well. 

Daja rolled her eyes and returned to her bellows. She'd believe Sandry would keep her nose out of anything when and if it happened. But it was good to have her friend back. Before this summer, she'd wondered if that would ever happen again. 

_11th day of Snow Moon, 1043, Lightsbridge College_

_Hey Coppercurls._

Tris started out of her reading. Over the summer they'd re-opened their bonds, but she and Briar, in particular, still tended to avoid communicating that way. It wasn't like Briar to just start chatting out of the blue. 

_Briar?_ She asked.

_We're riding in the gates of Lightsbridge now. You want to come down and greet everyone, or do I start grabbing random passers-by and ask them where the crabby red-head is hiding_

She could almost see his grin through his mind voice, a distinct contrast to this past summer when he'd not been nearly as calm or genuinely happy. _Who's this we?_ She asked again, already marking her place in the text and capping her ink to prevent it spilling on her notes.

 _You think I'd have kept the girls to keep their nebs out of the conversation this long if they were here?_ He asked rhetorically. _Rosethorn and Crane are doing some lectures this conference about their work in fighting diseases. I'm coming along to help talk about the Blue Pox, and to talk in some seminar about shakkans as magic-holders._

She was already putting on her warm winter coat, an early birthday present from Sandry, as she responded to Briar, _I'd heard about the conference,but not that Rosethorn and Crane were presenting. I'll have to make it to that lecture too, I guess. And yours, if you don't spend your part of it making faces at me. Don't bother asking around, I'll come out to you. It'll be nice to see Rosethorn, at least._ She didn't say, even through the bond, that she was happier to see Briar. Both of them knew it, so why say it? 

Wind cut through her as soon as she stepped out the library doors. It found every possible crease and gap in between her layers of clothing to bite at her skin. Had she been elsewhere, alone with her siblings, she would have whipped a shield around herself without thought, re-directing the wind as easily as a pebble diverted a trickle of water. One of the hardest adjustments to Lightsbridge and her new identity was learning not to use her magic in ways that had become second-nature. She shivered, and pulled the hood of her coat up over her hair. At least Sandry's work dispelled the worst of it, keeping her far drier and warmer than any normal cloths would have done. 

Briar's voice came through clearly, directing her before she asked, _We're still at the gates. Crane's gone all wet-cat noble at where the dean wanted to stick us, and Rosethorn's enjoying watching the two of them go at each other._ A brief silence, then, _I'm going to start taking notes. Crane's in rare form. I think he missed Rosethorn, some of these sound like things he'd been rehearsing to use against her in their next big dust-up._ Their bond was quiet for another minute or so as Tris walked, mentally cursing the fact that the library was so far away from the main gates. _Hold up_ , Briar's voice came again, _They're done fussing at each other, and we're heading to the North building, Wing One, second floor. That mean anything to you?_

Tris rolled her eyes, and abruptly shifted direction. _You'll love it, it's right above the kitchens, and the head chef here must be a relative of Dedicate Gorse. It's about five minutes walk from the main gate at your or my pace, twice that if you have to walk at the dean's speed. And I think that's where they're holding most of the seminars, so you won't be wandering too much in this cold_. 

Evidently the cold, or maybe the thought of not being near a disdainful Crane and an amused Rosethorn, worked a magic of its own on the dean, as Briar and the others were already walking into North when she arrived. She waited a minute, allowing the dean to walk off in the opposite direction, before she entered, following her bond with Briar to determine exactly where the Winding Circle delegation had been situated. Briar's room had the door hanging half-open, and Tris peaked in, wanting to catch at least a glimpse of Briar before he put up any fronts for her. He'd been doing better ever since he confessed what he'd been through to Sandry, Daja, and her, but better than he had been was still not back to normal for Briar. 

He looked good. His face had filled out a little more, losing the last bit of that hunger-sharped edge that he hadn't lost over their summer in Namorn. His shoulders were slightly looser as he moved around the room. She smirked a bit as she noticed his clothes-pack dumped carelessly on the floor while he fussed instead with the four shakkans in pots that he'd brought, tweaking their alignment on the empty desk below the window. It was so typically Briar. 

She must have made some sort of sound, for he jerked up and spun to look at the door. It took a minute for him to relax and smile at her, but even that was better than earlier in the year, when he would never have truly relaxed, just pretended to do so. “Hey, Coppercurls! You'll never guess what Duke Vedris told Lark he was planning. Sandry's not going to know what hit her...”


End file.
